


Rarer than Gold

by Emerald147



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Author Is Sleep Deprived, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I just want them to be happy, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), My First Work in This Fandom, Not Beta Read, and tired of cliches, but oh well, despite using a handful, just fluff, pure fluff, this isn't good writing tbh, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 22:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19981294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald147/pseuds/Emerald147
Summary: Now Arthur had grown up draped in finery. Given gold and silver and all manner of rare, shiny things meant to show his status. Arthur knew gold. He had seen it being poured by a blacksmith, gently bent into shape by a jeweller, and seen it descending onto his own head as a heavy promise. Arthur knew gold.Merlin’s eyes weren’t gold.----Or Merlin finally unlocks his full power - he's pretty much magic incarnate after all





	Rarer than Gold

A few weeks ago, in the soft darkness of the night Arthur had held a sobbing Merlin as he confessed to being a sorcerer (or warlock, technically). He had hushed him and held him flush to his chest as Merlin stuttered out excuses and old prophecies and horribly sincere apologies that Arthur would never accept. How could he accept such an apology, when nothing warranted it? Of course he already knew or Merlin’s magic, as did all his knights - they had ever had a meeting in secret about whether or not to tell him they knew and how they should protect him (really Arthur knew that most of them would betray him for Merlin in a heartbeat, and he didn’t blame them). Eventually, Merlin calmed, and at Arthur’s gentle questioning, spilled out all he had done. Once he had finished talking he looked up at Arthur with the saddest doe eyes Arthur had ever seen, so really what else could he do but kiss away the next unnecessary apology that was just about to spill from behind Merlin’s teeth?

In the cool hours of the morning after, with Merlin’s head on his chest, Arthur listened as Merlin told him his last secret. He had said, in the quietest, sleep-ruffled voice: Even I don’t know the extent of my powers Arthur, and it scares me sometimes, what I might be capable of. Ever since I was a child, my Mother always told me to hide my magic, to push it down so I kind of locked most of it away and now I’m too scared to let it out… he had trailed off and as Arthur held this beautiful creature even closer he wondered, letting the small tremble in Merlin’s voice rush over him, how any one could ever fear him.

That’s why they were outside now. In the open plains surrounding Camelot, her huge, imposing structure offering a sense of safety. Weeks after Merlin’s confession, he had finally told Arthur he was ready to unlock the power he had suppressed all those years ago. Arthur had signed in relief when he heard - all it had taken was Arthur’s constant praise of Merlin’s magic (and nothing else, mind you, he wasn’t soft) and a muffled admission of complete and utter trust that really should have felt like a bigger deal than it did. But it was Merlin. There was no one Arthur trusted more and he wasn’t scared of that fact anymore.

They had been there for a little while, simply sitting in silence, Arthur’s head in Merlin’s lap as long, gentle fingers wound themselves in his hair. He opened an eye. Merlin’s face seemed calm at first, but the slight pinch between his brows and his tense, slightly hunched posture revealed all Arthur needed to know.

“Merlin?” it was practically a whisper, barely audible over the breeze.

Arthur sat up when there was no reply and carefully took Merlin’s face in his hands, tilting his chin up and not even trying to fight the quirk of a smile that pulled itself onto his face when those impossibly blue eyes found his. Blue (or rather a good shade and quality of blue - and any of Merlin’s blue clothes were far from either of those things) was a hard colour to come by in Camelot, the dye requiring expensive materials that meant it was usually only worn by nobles or kings. To have such vibrant blue eyes, at least from Arthur’s perspective, revealed the inner nobility, and rareness of Merlin.

Not that he’d ever say that aloud, Merlin would just laugh, and them probably point out that Arthur had blue eyes too so really he was just complimenting himself. So Arthur kept that thought to himself.

Many years of having to communicate without words (captured, hunting, and really boring council meetings) meant that they had near-perfected the art. Even if Merlin still couldn’t understand even the most basic of hand signals. When Arthur smiled so did Merlin, even if it was a weak little thing.

Then his eyes closed again, and he took Arthur’s hands in his, clutching them and his eyes clenched in concentration. At first there were no physical changes.

And then it hit him.

Arthur didn’t know if it was because they were so close, or because they were holding hands, or if it would have happened anyway, or if everyone across all of Albion could feel it, but all of a sudden, he could breathe. Of course, he had been breathing his whole life, but in under a second, it was like his lungs had never known air, and he was breathing. The air was different in his lungs now, and all breaths before that first one felt inadequate, vapid, and unimportant.

Arthur was breathing. Then he was laughing. Then they were both laughing and Merlin still hadn’t opened his eyes.

If either of them had bothered to look around they would have seen the flowers, bushes, and even the few tiny saplings that sprung from the ground, as if seeking the same air Arthur’s lungs had been shocked by. Plants that had never grown before opened leaves and petals to the sun, catching it’s golden light and spinning it into colours un-imagined.

But Merlin still hadn’t opened his eyes, and Arthur couldn’t look away.

Then Merlin did.

Arthur breathed his heavily, air hissing slightly through his teeth. He had just begun to breathe and now he couldn’t.

Now Arthur had grown up draped in finery. Given gold and silver and all manner of rare, shiny things meant to show his status. Arthur knew gold. He had seen it being poured by a blacksmith, gently bent into shape by a jeweller, and seen it descending onto his own head as a heavy promise. Arthur knew gold.

Merlin’s eyes weren’t gold.

Sure, gold was probably the closest he’d ever get to naming the colour. But something inside of Arthur protested that. But how could he name it? Name the feeling of home that sunk into his bones, name the new air, his new breath, name the gentle fire that sung in his hands, where they were connected to Merlin’s?

Arthur, though by Merlin’s judgment was a clotpole, was not stupid. He knew more words than anyone else in the Citadel, knew more colours than he’d ever actually see. But there was no pre-existing word or colour that was good enough. How could there be? There had never been anyone like Merlin. Much like Arthur’s new breathing, like the new air and new flowers this was something that was unprecedented.

The magic swirled away into Merlin’s pupil and the royal blue returned. Merlin was grinning but quickly stopped when he noticed the tear on Arthur’s face.

“Arthur? What’s wrong?” he went to cup Arthur’s face but the King held his hands tighter, not willing to sacrifice that connection yet.

Arthur choked out a laugh.

And then they were kissing and Arthur was still crying and Merlin was crying too and they were both laughing into the kiss, both finally breathing.

They pulled away after a while, still holding eye contact until Merlin gasped, finally noticing all his magic had done. 

“Did… Did I-?”

“Yes you great idiot, I told you there was nothing to fear, but did you listen? No, of course not, I’m only _the King_ ” Merlin shoved him. And stuck his tongue out. So Arthur did the mature thing and messed up his hair (not that it was at all neat to begin with - and no that was Not because Arthur liked to run his hands though it at any opportunity).

Hours later, when they were back in the castle, back in Arthur’s (their) bed, Merlin would ask if he really didn’t frighten Arthur, and Arthur would respond, rolling his eyes as though it were obvious: _Of course not_ Mer _lin, nothing about you could scare me, you’re just about the least intimidating thing out there._ And Merlin would smile and smack him lightly on the arm, half insulted, half reassured

And really, that sums it up quite nicely.

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys, hope you enjoyed! i just really wanted a fic where arthur realise how amazing merlin is, so i had to!
> 
> and, if for some reason you actually liked this, i have a writing account on instagram you could go check out: @eleutheria.ink


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